Unrequited
by auroralies
Summary: There are certain things we’ve become used to seeing in pairs. This story opens with one single swing, and one single twin. Sensuous, sumptuous, somewhat interactive, rather grandiose, and definitely twincestuous. Hika/Kao.
1. The Swing

This story is going to be epic, I can promise you that. This chapter looks to be a bit shorter than I'd expected, and the rest of them are likely to be much longer. I plan on updating a couple times a week. I'd like to say every day, but that'd be a ridiculously ambitious goal. Oh, more on what I meant about "somewhat interactive" at the end.

And of course, Bisco Hatori is the supreme creator of all things Host Club. I'm just borrowing her characters... I'll return them a little angsty and sweaty, but for the most part unharmed. (;

* * *

Eyes closed, I let my other senses fully take in the night. I toed at the grass, letting my bare feet sink into the clovers, the ground moist from a recent squall. The wind pleasantly whipped my hair around my face, making me feel more tranquil and actually more _free_ than I had in ages…but also more alone. After years and years of togetherness, it's hard to acclimatize to the solitude, even if only for a moment. I entangled my hands in the metal links of the swing—the one, solitary swing that's hidden away in the corners of the mansion's garden. Its cold metal links proved a sharp contrast against my hot flesh. My skin has become frequently warm as of late, and I'm sure it's due to lying next to him; even though I had for so many nights, for so many years. I thought I'd be able to handle it, but the frustration and agony keep building. The ache is swelling, and beginning to take over my very being.

I don't know when exactly I feel in love with Hikaru, and lord knows I don't know why. I didn't wish this upon myself. Even when we agreed to Tamaki's insane "Brotherly Love" pitch, we did it knowing full well that it was for a reaction out of the ladies, that it was a joke. To even ask him to _consider_ that it was real would be a joke. It would be unthinkable, unreasonable… _illegal._ The stakes are way too high—not only could I be rejected, but Hikaru would be disgusted with me, our bond would be shattered. He'd probably even move into his own bedroom, something that our parents have been hinting at for years. Not to mention the act at the Host Club would cease and I _live_ for those moments. It may be an act to Hikaru, every touch, every word carefully prepared, a_ lie_—but to me; they're real... or as close to real as they'll ever be. In those moments, I can feel his eyes on me, dancing with laughter instead of passion. His touches and caresses are caring, yes, but calculated and rehearsed. Even so, they make my heart skip a beat, my face flush. I can't help but desire more, more of whatever he's willing to give. Maybe… Well, _he and I have always felt the same way about everything, could it be possible that—No!_

I shook my head against the wind, squashing hope and letting the breeze sweep my hair out of my eyes. Here I was again, getting carried away in my thoughts. Hadn't I already decided to leave him out of this? Even though Hikaru is the cause of all my internal turmoil, there is no point in letting him know. I don't want him to have it weighing on his mind. I won't tell him how much it hurts me when he looks at Haruhi the way that he does. I know there's no point in getting worked up; it's obvious how Haruhi feels about the king (even if neither Tamaki nor Hikaru have realized it). Still, I support him. He's my brother, my other half, my reason for living. He could decide to sport a Mohawk or start his own line of velvet bellbottoms, and I would still support him.

Sighing, I stood back on my feet, and began to make my way through the maze of the gardens. I spend way too much time out here thinking, a product of my insomnia. I like the swing and vines crawling around it, the way it's concealed from anyone around by the oversized bushes. While the rest of the gardens are manicured and rigged with fountains and lights, that corner is wild and lush, unkempt for no visible reason. And the swing—the singular swing. I'm not actually sure why there's not another one. I could be wrong, but aren't all swing sets sold in…well, sets? Perhaps it was a commoners' deal, but why our family would purchase anything marked down is beyond me. Maybe that's why I like it, though: Swings are always seen in sets, just as I'm always seen in a pair. But I never come to the corner of the garden with Hikaru. Even I need something that I can call mine, and only mine.

I trudged up to the back door, not bothering to take in the splendorous wood paneling, concerned only with being quiet so as to not alert the help. It would be difficult to explain what I was doing in out in the back gardens in the dead of the night, all alone. They'd probably alert mother and father, who would invest in a night crew, no doubt.

_But why bother sneaking around? Everyone's probably in bed, anyway._

Taking a look at the lateness of the hour, I didn't bother to stifle a yawn. What reasons would the maids have for wandering around at three in the morning? If anything, _they_ would be the ones who need to sneak around. They have even less reason than _I_ to be out and about at this hour.

*_CRASHBANG!!*_

My head whips up, momentarily giving me whiplash. I rubbed at my neck as I changed direction and scrambled towards the kitchen. Never mind the lateness of the hour, if someone was _hurt—_

Skirting around the corner, my breath caught as I toppled headfirst into the last person I wanted to see there; Hikaru.

* * *

Congratulations to those of you who saw the word "squall" in the first paragraph and immediately thought of "Jungle Pool SOS!". I took the liberty of actually looking up the word after that (of course), and got the following result:

**squall** (skwôl) _n.  
A brief sudden violent windstorm, often accompanied by rain or snow._

As always, ladies, I write for your pleasure. But it wouldn't hurt to give me a little feedback. What you thought, what you liked, what you want more of or even things you want to happen. If you voice them, I can write them. Obviously, I won't let my reviewers control the story, but if any small suggestion fits in with what I have planned, I wouldn't be opposed to writing in what you want to read. Naturally, credit will be received at the end of the chapter, if I end up taking you up on your idea.

Here's my first question for you: Do you want the next chapter in KAORU POV again, or HIKARU POV?

Cheers.

—_Ora_


	2. Pancakes

Wow, I never do anything that I say I will. *cough* I'm not two months late, or anything…

I'm "sick" today, so I thought I'd use this time to be productive. Now that I'm back in school, I've been planning and writing scenes all the time… in a very rudimentary form. It takes a while for me to edit it into what it is now... BUT LOOK AT THE LENGTH OF THIS CHAPTER. :D

ALRIGHT, since the vote was unanimously NO PREFERENCE, I write again in Kao's POV. And, of course, I've stolen Bisco Hatori's mind grapes and, and tinged them with my own creative juices. (what?)

-ahem-

AND READ THE FOOTNOTE. Please.

* * *

Previously,

_*CRASHBANG!!*_

_My head whips up, momentarily giving me whiplash. I rubbed at my neck as I changed direction and scrambled towards the kitchen. Never mind the lateness of the hour, if someone was hurt—  
Skirting around the corner, my breath caught as I toppled headfirst into the last person I wanted to see there; Hikaru. _

_

* * *

_

I lay panting on the floor, face about ten shades of red, on top of my brother.

"Are… are you… okay?" I managed to murmur amidst my intense embarrassment. Hikaru blinked up at my crimson face, his lips pursed in a small smile.

"Why are you so red…?" Hikaru questioned, his smirk growing with every passing second. He made no move to push me away, but rather hooked one of his legs around mine and rolled us both over, his hands maneuvering so as to pin me to the floor. His eyes sparkled as if to say: _Now, that's more like it_. I felt my face flush, if possible, even redder. I averted my eyes, staring fixedly at the paneling at the bottom of the counter, at the light fixture beyond his head… at his hair, perfectly tousled… at the first three buttons of his pajama top, _undone…_ I gulped, and tried to regain awareness. _He loves Haruhi, he loves Haruhi, he's my BROTHER, he loves Haruhi..._ I repeated like a mantra over and over in my head, before willing myself back into the conversation.

"Oh… I… Eh… I… ran all the way here, after… after I heard the crash," I muddled, and began tugging my wrists, halfheartedly fumbling in attempt to dislodge myself from underneath my twin. I felt something thick and wet drip onto my wrist, pulling me out of my trance. Upon realization, I bolted up against Hikaru's restraints, knocking him back to a sitting position as well. My head swam with colors and sounds as I formulated my words.

"Hikaru! The crash! Are you…" I trailed off, my eyes following a line of blood, from the speck on my hand up to the deep slice in Hikaru's right forearm. I gasped audibly, grabbing his hand and pulling his arm into my lap, inspecting the cut closer. "Jesus, Hikaru! How did you manage that? No, never mind, we have to alert the staff! Or should we call an ambulance? You're going to need stitches! Eleven, maybe, let me—" I glanced up at Hikaru's face, pulling back slightly as I noticed him in a silent fit of laughter.

"Kao, calm down," he breathed, his laughter dying down. He placed his left hand on my cheek, willing me to close my eyes and take a deep breath. "You're overreacting. There's no need to wake everyone up, it's not even that big." He untwined his right arm from my grasp, standing up and making his way to the furthest counter. He extracted a couple cotton balls while twisting his right arm in determination not to drip any more of his blood onto the floor.

"But…" I began, picking myself up off the tile. I studied Hikaru intently as he sat himself upon the counter, and unscrewed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He looked up at me, taking note of the inquiring expression on my face.

"It's to kill the germs." He pulled the bag of cotton balls closer to him.

"No, Hikaru, don't you read Wikipedia?! That'll only delay the healing, not to mention it destroys skin tissue. I mean… Come here." I grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him off the counter and towards the sink. My skin prickled at the contact, but I pushed my own desires away—tending to Hikaru was, and would always be, my first priority.

Hikaru opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if to mock me or to object, but obliged as I dabbed at the cut and wiped up the blood that had dried along his arm. Cleaning the cloth off, I added soap and repeated the process, watching Hikaru's face wince as the soap came in contact with his wound.

"So, tell me something," I began.

"I was getting the maple syrup—the good kind—out from the top shelf," Hikaru answered, before I could pose my question. "I finally figured out where mom hid it."

I smiled. Our mother was always hiding the maple syrup from us. She figured at the rate we consumed it, we'd both die of heart attacks before we turned thirty.

"Where…ah." I had looked around and discovered the smashed glass bottle. Half of it remained on the counter directly behind us, while the other half, seeping with maple syrup, was barely visible behind the kitchen island. I gazed dejectedly at the little puddle before turning back to Hikaru, who had fished out gauze and medical tape and was awkwardly holding the tape with his teeth, struggling to pull some of it off with his right hand while his left pressed the gauze firmly in place.

"Hikaru, don't you ever ask for help?" I sighed, exasperated. I heard him mumble something about "big brother pride" through the roll of tape still clutched between his teeth, but he let me pluck it out of his mouth without so much as a complaint.

After taking a lot more time than necessary to wrap up his arm, Hikaru padded over to the broken remains of the maple syrup bottle.

"Help me clean this up, will you, Kao?" he asked, while staring at the mess bleakly. I grabbed at the paper towel roll, unrolling a few sheets from the rack. I looked back to gage how many we'd need and was immediately distracted—Hikaru was bent over, gingerly picking up the larger pieces of glass one by one, giving me a perfect view of…

"You like?" he asked, drawing out the "l". I jumped, causing the paper towel roll to spin wildly on its rack and unravel almost completely.

"I… uh… what?" Hikaru stood back up and looked over, looking slightly amused.

"I thought you found the pancakes… What did you think I was referring to?"

"What pancakes?" I retorted, completely ignoring his question.

"I made pancakes," he stated, simply, waving his arm towards the counter. There, to the left of the mass of unraveled paper towels, sat a plate of a dozen or so pancakes, golden and fluffy, wafting pleasantly through my senses.

"What are you doing making pancakes at three in the morning?!" I enquired, surprised, staring at Hikaru, who avoided my gaze. Instead, he looked fixedly at the counter behind me, at the heap of paper towel. He raised his eyebrows as if to say _nice_, before grabbing a few from the pile, wetting them, and heading back to the sticky jumble of glass and syrup. I watched him bend down gingerly again, careful to crouch down so that his fluffy bunny slippers wouldn't be soiled by the syrup.

"They're from Honey-Senpai," he said with a grin, feeling my gaze on him.

"No, that's not it. I just--" I broke off, tearing my eyes away and looking intently at the pancakes instead. _I just love you, is all_. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Hikaru frowned, now wiping the last of the sticky glass from the floor.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's nothing," I replied, knowing full well that it was most certainly _not_ nothing. I could feel it all the time, bubbling up in my chest like a happy balloon, forced into hiding. I wanted to share it with him, with the world—but I knew full well the importance of concealing my feelings. If I gave in, I would be scorned for the rest of my existence by not only the whole world, but also my very own object of affection.

Hikaru was still frowning, but knew better than to pry. He merely said, "One of these days, Kaoru, you're going to tell me why you've created a barrier between us."

I opened my mouth guiltily, to lie that there _was_ no barrier, but he gave me a look that said plainly, _save it._ I looked away again.

"Well," Hikaru said, changing topic, "the pancakes aren't covered in glass." He tossed the last of the mess in the garbage bin, and grabbed the plate of pancakes, heading to the door. "Bring something to put on them, okay?" he said, before disappearing around the corner.

I turned to the fridge, peering inside for jam or blueberries or anything that would substitute for maple syrup, but we were entirely out of jam, and the only fruit we had was an abandoned pomegranate. My eyes fell on the whipped cream. _Oho…_

It was several moments before I was brought out of my reverie. There _had_ to be some other pancake topping! I was _not_ bringing whipped cream anywhere near Hikaru. Last time, he insisted on spraying it all over me and then wiping it off with his finger and licking it off. I squirmed a little, imagining how _uncomfortable _that would be, and the awkward questions it would raise.

I continued searching for anything else to bring, yogurt or ice cream maybe, and seriously considered bringing pickles for an entire minute, before I shook my head and grabbed the whipped cream can. I closed the fridge rather violently, and heard the contents rattle and shake. Exasperated, I trudged out of the kitchen, determined to squash the slight anticipation I now felt because of the can clutched in my hands.

But Hikaru was not in the dining hall. Nor was he in the second dining hall, or the breakfast nook we kept by the back door, or the patio outside…

"Hikaru?" I whispered, looking more closely in the shadows and around corners—but he was nowhere to be found.

I was standing upstairs from the entrance hall, just about to give up and call it a night, when I noticed a small amount of light seeping from under our door at the end of the hall… Pancakes in _bed_? Oh, this put a whole new spin on the whipped cream. Determined to think about anything else, I marched the length of the hallway to our room. I opened the door silently and closed it behind me, still cautious of waking anyone else in the house… especially now that I was bringing whipped cream into our bedroom.

Hikaru lay across the bed, his feet resting on the overstuffed feather pillows, his arms propping him up atop the plate of pancakes.

"We-didn't-have-any-other-toppings-at-all-so-here's-some-whipped-cream." I said very fast, in one breath. Hikaru's eyes lit up, and said,

"Oooh, gimme!" He picked up a pancake in his hand a sprayed a generous amount of cream on it. He patted the bed next to him before licking it off the edges of his pancake. I groaned internally, but joined him on the bed anyway, helping myself to a plain pancake.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I was on my third pancake and was thinking longingly of the maple syrup I would've had, when Hikaru interrupted the quiet.

"I thought you were mad at me."

"What?" I asked, quizzically, through a mouthful of lonely pancake.

"You asked why I made the pancakes," he said, shrugging, "I wanted to make you feel better."

"No! I wasn't mad at you." My heart hammered, and I couldn't think of anything else to add. Now seemed like a good enough time for a confession of my own, but I couldn't very well say, _Oh, I've only been avoiding you at night because if I don't, I get aroused to the point of insanity._

Hikaru hummed, not entirely satisfied by my answer, and said, "Yet you leave every night, just as I'm drifting off. Why?"

I paused, picking my words carefully. "I… can't sleep."

"Well, that's not fair, is it?" He asked, giving me a somewhat sour look.

I glanced up, questioning him with my eyes. Several seconds ticked by. The pancake in my hand sat, forgotten.

"You know I can't sleep if you're not there," he said, at last. I blinked.

"No," I whispered, mostly to myself, "I didn't."

I thought of all those times when I left Hikaru "asleep" and went out alone, seemingly unnoticed, to the back gardens. He way laying here, waiting for me to come back while I sat outside being gloomy and depressed… I've been so completely selfish.

"I'm sorry," I said, after a few short minutes. Hikaru smiled weakly, and plucked the pancake from my hand, placing it and the can of whipped cream on the now empty plate. I watched uneasily as he set it on the desk across the room, quite sure that he was angry with me. He crawled into bed under the duvet, looking out the window, and not at me. I got up and turned off the light before I crawled back in bed, next to the very reason why I had left it in the first place.

* * *

I just love Kaoru's mood swings, don't you?

ABOUT THE REVIEWS: I didn't get any where as much feedback as I had thought I would, but the offer still stands—I'm open to any story suggestions, small subplots, anything you want them to do or see or _anything at all_, really. As promised, if it makes it in the story, I'll give you credit.

Of course, constructive criticism and/or fangirlish squeals will also be appreciated. Cheeeeers!

—Ora


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